I was testing large format cameras for light leaks — putting 4” x 5” pieces of light-sensitive paper into the dark slides, passing them through the developer, then discarding them in the trash. I found old color film in the dark slides — unexposed, forgotten surfaces holding the potential of pictures never made — and discarded them alongside the pieces of paper. I returned the next day and discovered that the chemistry had dripped from one to another, and strange shapes and colors had emerged. I scanned the pieces, fighting against their ephemerality, knowing that they would be gradually altered by further exposure to light.

These materials — film, the lumen print, the body — speak to our desire to fix ourselves in time, and the ultimate futility of this endeavor. And so I let an accident become a body. Watch as it leaves a trace in the silver halide crystals, only to transform into something else — an abstraction of the idea of the body. A possible definition of queerness: slipping in and out of form. Almost alien, like seeing bacteria, hair, or dust under a microscope. Matter, capable of being rearranged – another way to see and unsee yourself.

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• 2023 MFA THESIS | PART II